“The Dragonlord? Pah!” The mage holding the barrier spat at me. “If we wanted a necromantic monster ruling Myszno, we would have kept the first one!”
“For Myszno! For humankind! Ori’ha’kal!” The other man swung his glowing hands toward me, spellgloves discharging another burst of light. It engulfed three of the shadows, vaporizing them, and seared the varnish off the furniture I was using for cover.
“We’re here to restore Kitti Hussar to her rightful seat!” I called, after I’d finished ducking. “This is your last chance: stand the fuck down, or I’ll overrun and kill you both.”
The remaining shades pressed in closer to the barrier.
“The Hussars are dead: destroyed, by the likes of you! Die, demon spawn!” The elementalist’s lip curled, and this time, he swung his hands directly toward me.
I threw myself forward as a bolt of lightning lanced through the barrier and struck where I’d been crouching. I snarled, throwing out a lasso of darkness from my fingertips. It streaked toward the mage, but hit the barrier and dissolved.
“Your foul magics cannot defeat the holy fire of Khors!” The mage holding the barrier, an older man in the red work robes of a priest, panted in desperation as half a dozen shadow spears rained off the shield.
“For fuck’s sake.” I concentrated on the crowd of shades. “Get out of here! All of you! Go to the damn Caul of Souls, and say hi to Lahati for me!”
The shadows stopped clawing at the barrier and drifted back. One by one, they stretched out like black candle flames, then vanished.
“There! Hold your fire, for fuck’s sakes!” I said. “If you’re Hussar men, the Countess needs you, and I need Zoltan Gallo.”
“Countess? You’re installing Hussar’s little greensick brat as countess?” The elementalist’s face contorted with disdain. “Hold that shield, Torvan! For Zoltan!”
I sighed. “Well, okay. Can’t say I didn’t try.”
A fireball warped into existence at the mage’s fingertips, then shot at me like a meteor. I dove, rolled, and raced forward with Blood Sprint, changing the Spear from Dark to Light on instinct. The weapon blazed with pure white-gold radiance as I drove it into the barrier. The blade caught against the field of energy, which turned bright blue, then white as the Spear surged the shield until it exploded. The blast pitched the other mage into the railing. I carried the combo through, and drove the blade all the way through the priest’s unarmored chest.
“Heretic! Murderer!” Torvan’s comrade shouted in horror, stumbling back as I pulled the spear free and spun around to face him. “He was a holy man!”
“Both of you are outlaws who refused to surrender,” I said. “So now it's execution or arrest. Your pick.”
“Myszno is for Vlachians!” Before I could react, he put the knuckles of his spellglove against the underside of his jaw and snarled a word of power. Within a split second, a ball of lightning formed—and blew the man’s head off.
“Yeesh.” I flinched as meat rained down across the stairs. “I wonder how the fuck Jacob will try and explain THAT.”
I looted both mages, taking their remaining mana, slung my spear over my back, and grabbed a rifle from the floor, checking it was loaded and scrounging more ammunition from the dead rebels. There were five more corpses on the stairwell, killed by shadows, and evidence that others in here had fled. I barreled up to the top floor, the rifle braced in against my shoulder, and cleared each corner until I reached the half open doors of the Lord’s Chambers. There was a repetitive clunking sound coming from inside.
“Zoltan! Come out with your hands up!” I found the best position I could—the wall next to the doorway.
The only reply was the growing roar of airship engines from outside the building.
“Uh oh.” I turned around and kicked in the door to find an empty apartment. The bedroom was straight ahead, both entry doors flung open, the bed in disarray. The sheets had been ripped up. To the right, a pair of large French doors opened out onto a small balcony, banging loudly as the wind outside grew into a howl. I ran over to find a rope hanging down from the stone railing—and to see Zoltan’s small airship careen up toward me from the ground.
“Oh you fucking-!” I raised the rifle and fired, aiming for the ring of blazing bluesteel that encircled the airship’s hull and deck. Two out of three rounds impacted, spanging and sparking off the magically-charged metal, but they didn’t slow the craft as the ring spun faster and the yacht careened toward Solonovka at speed.
Before I had time to regret my life choices, I threw the rifle down, bounded up onto the edge of the railing, and sprung out into the open air toward the retreating airship. For one slow heartbeat, there was nothing but me, a whole lot of empty space, and the gradual slowing of time as Leap of Faith kicked in... and my hands slapped onto the starboard stern.
Spider Climb kicked in, attaching to the side of the yacht like a barnacle as it gunned its ring-like engine and powered toward the curtain wall. Karalti’s bellow of rage and alarm broke through the whining roar of turbines. I looked back to see her launch herself into the air from the wall, drooling white, phosphorescent fire from her jaws.
“Don’t torch the boat! For the love all that is holy, do not torch that boat!” I slapped my other hand down, pulling myself up arm over arm as Spider Climb’s 20-second timer ran down. Once I got my feet to cling, I scrambled up at a fast crawl until the last second, tensed through, and sprung up in a second Jump. The angle was awkward, but I managed to catch the railing of the ship’s deck. Straining, I pulled myself up—only to find myself looking up into the muzzle of a great big fuck-off rifle.
“Didn’t your momma ever tell you it’s rude to stick your junk in someone else’s face?” I asked, resisting the urge to cross my eyes as the barrel split in my vision.
“Oh, a comedian, are we?” The man with the elephant gun could only be Zoltan Gallo. He was tall, thick as a barrel, with the bleary piggish eyes and fleshy red cheeks of an alcoholic. His armor was about two sizes too small to contain his gut, but he held the rifle like someone who’d spent years looking down an iron sight. “How do you want to die, pretender? Should I make you plummet to your doom, or blow your head off like common vermin?”
“How about-?” I reached up and yanked the barrel past my face and over my shoulder as he fired. The sound was deafening—literally, as my hearing cut to a high-pitched whine—but the recoil and forward momentum threw him off balance. He stumbled against the rails with a shout, a boss health meter appearing in a ring behind his head. I struggled to pull myself up, only to have his thick hobnailed boot come down on my left hand.
“OWW! Whore!” My fingers couldn’t keep grip on that side, slipping as the yacht lurched. Zoltan leered at me, raising his foot to stomp the other hand.
A huge black shadow streaked over the airship: Karalti, rocketing by close enough that the craft’s engine surged. The deck bucked like a mustang: Zoltan let out a shout of dismay as the pitch threw him off his feet and sent him rolling into the outer wall of the enclosed bridge. I snapped my jaws and pulled myself up over the rail, rolling to my feet as the ship’s stabilizers kicked in and it swung back.
“Arrgh! Get that dragon!” Zoltan roared, getting back to his feet and pulling a saber from his belt.
I followed his line of sight, and my stomach wrenched as I saw his crewmates scramble out of the lower deck and into position in front of a small cannon.
“Watch out: incoming fire, 3 o’clock!” I charged a rush of power from the Mark of Matir, and flew at Zoltan while he was still flat-footed.
The man got his sword up to block: for all the good it did. Shadow Lance landed nearly a thousand points of damage against the edge of the plain steel blade, shattering it. Zoltan cried out, stumbling away up the length of the deck. I chased him, transmuting the Spear’s polarity to fire, and went straight for his leg.
There was a rolling ‘boom’ from the back of the small craft, with recoil that caused the yacht to see-
saw as it tore at full speed toward the city.
[Glancing blow! Karalti takes 244 ballistic damage!]
Karalti was invisible in the dark, thanks to her holographic hide, but I knew by the sound that they were firing canister shot, ammo that turned their cannon into a giant shotgun. Karalti was big, but fast: If they couldn’t see her, she would be okay. As long as they didn’t hit her wings...
“Surrender, Gallo!” I called to him, as he dodged around the bridge. “It’s over!”
“I’ll kill myself before I surrender to you, you Tuun peasant scum!” He roared back.
“Then it’s my job to make your dream come true!” I followed him around the corner, and ran right into a slug he shot from a pistol at his hip. The round struck me in the upper arm, punching through leather and padding into flesh.
[You take 399 ballistic damage!]
I flung my hand out and willed a loop of dark energy out like a lasso, snapping it around his thick neck like an assassin’s wire. Zoltan’s eyes bugged as he clawed at his throat with one hand, unsteadily aiming the pistol with the other.
There was a bellow from the other end of the ship, then screams and the sound of twisting metal and splintering wood. Karalti roared in triumph as she flew back from the ship with her prize—the 12-pounder cannon she had ripped from the stern.
“It’s over!” I repeated, disappearing into a veil of black smoke and reappearing over Zoltan as he collapsed, choking, to the deck. I jammed the point of the spear under his chin and crushed his gun hand beneath the soul of my boot, earning a pained cry.
“We’re almost at the towers,” Zoltan spat. “Your dragon is dead!”
“My dragon isn’t stupid.” I wedged the point in closer. “Karalti, pick us up before we reach the attack radius of those towers!”
“Aye aye, cap’n!” She strained to gain speed over the ship, struggling with her load until she was over the bridge. She dropped it right over the roof. A thousand pounds of wood and cold iron smashed into the cockpit, throwing up a cloud of wood and debris. The ship’s engine stuttered, the craft listed, and then it started to fall.
Zoltan let out a shout of terror, struggling to get away from me as Karalti swooped down. Guided by her senses and the Bond, she reached with her back legs and snatched Zoltan and I from the deck of the yacht as it rolled over and plummeted out of the sky.
“Gods damn you! Demon spawn!” Zoltan yelled, kicking and struggling in Karalti’s hind claws.
“Just give it up, man!” I climbed up to her ankle, holding onto her leg like a mast. “You fucking lost!”
“Never! I never lose! I just… I don’t win sometimes!!” Zoltan ranted, banging his fist on Karalti’s toe as she wheeled back toward the castle. “I want a rematch! Someone cheated! I’m sending for the magistrates! The satraps! All of them! No outlander can claim a noble title in Vlachia! I deserve it, not you! This is obscene!”
“Look down, you big dumb stinky loser. Everyone in this place is glad you’re leaving,” Karalti groaned, pumping her wings as she strove back toward the castle.
She was right. As the spotlights tracked us back across the city, people were coming out of their homes: cheering, and then brawling as they massed together and mobbed the militia guards hanging out on the street corners.
“Fuck: we need to get them to surrender before citizens start dying. Take us to the Upper Ward.” I shakily bought up the group chat, pinging Suri. “Head’s up: we’ve got Zoltan, alive. Heading for the Upper Ward to do the honors.”
“Just in time, too. We’re starting to get real tired down here.” Suri replied. “On our way.”
The melee in the castle was still in full swing. It had broken up into skirmishes in both courtyards and the walls. Our smaller, better prepared, higher level forces, fortified by morale and bloodlust, were clearly on top despite the difference in numbers.
“Look down!” I barked at Zoltan. “Do you see that?”
“You know what I see? My reinforcements, ready to enter the castle and kill you all, you damned cave rat!” Zoltan snarled back at me, pointing toward Solonovka.
Karalti dove toward the Upper Ward, pulling up about twenty feet from the ground to drop us. I landed lightly. Zoltan did not. He hit the ground with the grace of a dead cow, smashing his chest and face into the stone. Even so, he was able to push himself to his arms as I walked over—and planted a boot on the back of his head. I looked back to see Suri striding ahead of Kitti, Letho and Gruna. All four of them were bloodied and exhausted: Suri largely unscathed, Letho with a makeshift bandage tied around his head, and Kitti with a battered nose and deep cut from chin to ear on one side of her face. But despite that, when the young noblewoman saw Zoltan, her eyes darkened to a stormy blue.
I hauled the robber baron up by his collar. “Here you go, Kitti. One hog, delivered fresh.”
“Oh look: it’s my little straw dolly,” Zoltan wheezed, his lips flecked with blood. His left arm hung limp and unnaturally low by his side. “How lovely of you to come back to me. I trust this abomination you call a Voivode left you your maidenhead?”
Kitti’s face turned pink, then red. Letho and Gruna both made to step up, but Suri waved them back. She crossed her arms, leaving Kitti to advance alone as Zoltan swayed on his knees and leered.
The girl racked the bolt on her rifle, ejecting a spent case and loading a new one into the chamber. “You’re disgusting.”
“Aww, Kitti Cat, you’re so cute when you’re mad,” Zoltan wheedled. “Come and give papa a kiss.”
“You dare speak to me this way?” Kitti ground each word out through her teeth. “I am the lady of this House, Zoltan. And you are a traitor to my family!”
“House Hussar. Hah… what a joke.” Zoltan sneered. “Your father rode out to face the Demon like some fairy-tale knight with a head full of stories. Did you really expect me to die for that pathetic loser and his pathetic seed?”
Kitti’s pupils dilated, and a red haze began to shimmer around her as her cheeks turned scarlet with rage. She shoved her rifle into Letho’s hands as Zoltan let out another wheezing, high pitched laugh— which meant he wasn’t looking when the girl, with a sudden burst of manic strength, pulled Suri’s five-and-a-half foot long zweihander sword from the sheathe on the taller woman’s back and swung it around.
“I’ll make Bas-” He looked up to see Kitti as she boiled toward him, her face a mask of primal fury, and bought the blade down with a bloodcurdling scream. “Uh-”
Zoltan’s head flew from his shoulders, landing with a satisfying thump on the stone. I took a big step back as his body jerked on its knees, arterial spray shooting into the air before dying back to weak, pulsing pumps of blood. The headless corpse swayed, then collapsed with a meaty thump on the pavement.
[Congratulations! You have completed Quest: The Last of Her House.]
[You earn 2700 EXP! You gain a +1000 EXP perfection bonus (Less than 10% Mass Combat ally fatalities).]
[Congratulations! You are Level 27!]
[You gained a new achievement: Lord of All You Survey.]
[You have gained Renown: +400 Renown (Myszno; all regions)]
[You gain +250 Bonus Renown (Myszno; all regions) and +250 Renown (General Nobility, Myszno Province)].
[You gain 40 Build Points!]
[Your Kingdom has obtained new Resources: Barley +5000, Silver +1500, Mana (Crystal) +200.]
“Hey! I know that move!” I grinned at Suri. “Gorgon Overdrive, right?”
“Sure is.” Suri went over to the girl, resting a hand on her shoulder. Kitti still clenched the sword hilt in a death grip, panting, teeth bared, her eyes dark and wild with rage. “You alright?”
“No.” Kitti’s expression flickered as the combat ended and her Primal Rage faded. She dropped the huge sword with a clang, then turned and buried her face against Suri’s breastplate, weeping. Letho and Gruna both walked up to Zoltan’s corpse and spat on it, one after the other.
“Good ‘Zerking, kid.” Suri hu
gged her around the shoulders.
The Lady of House Hussar stepped back, dashing at her eyes, and turned to me with her chin lifted. “My apologies, Your Grace. It is unseemly for a Countess to break down in front of her peer like that.”
“You’re fourteen, Kitti. You can be forgiven a few tears.” I smiled at her, opening my arms in offering. She hesitated, stepped forward, and let me hug her. “Now, do I have to do anything to make your position official?”
“Yes,” she said. “There is typically a ceremony, and you should have an option in your menu to change my status.”
“We don’t have time for a ceremony, but we can do one after all this is over.” I flipped to the KMS and quickly found Kitti in my allies menu. “Appoint Kitti Hussar as Countess of Bas.”
[Appointment confirmed: Countess Kitiana Hussar, Satrap of Bas and 9th Councilwoman of the Myszno Duma.]
[LOCAL ALERT—Myszno Province: After a long and difficult battle, Countess Kitiana Hussar has reclaimed the County of Bas from her challenger, Zoltan Gallo!]
Kitti’s eyes widened, and she brought her hands up to move holoscreens that I couldn’t see. “Wow. So these are the menus my father used to use... the Kingdom Management System. Strange they call it that. The Kingdom belongs to his Majesty.”
“I think it’s just a turn of phrase, yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing at Suri. Neither of us could see the other’s face, but I knew she was smiling.
A roar went up from the Lower Ward, and then—in the distance—from the city itself. Mostly cheers, some moans... and then the rolling boom of cannon fire from somewhere in Solonovka.
“Letho, Gruna. Here are my first orders,” Kitti said firmly, sniffing to clear the last of her tears. “We will go and liberate any of our household imprisoned in the dungeons, first of all. Letho, you will take Zoltan’s head and body and stake them both outside the castle gates.”
He grunted, nodded, and toed Zoltan’s head with his boot.
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